


Packing for Earth

by ConceptaDecency



Series: A Visit to Earth, 2378 [2]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Cardassian Culture, Cultural Differences, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon Cardassia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-25 10:09:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14376558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConceptaDecency/pseuds/ConceptaDecency
Summary: Julian packs for a trip to Earth. An offhand comment reveals a deep cultural misunderstanding.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A prequel to Dublin, 2378.

“Julian, you aren’t taking this to Earth.” Elim picked up a garish pink and red woollen jumper from where Julian had put it in the ‘pack’ pile on the bed.

Oh, this game again. Julian didn’t even bother to get up from the floor, where he was kneeling over his travel bag, rolling a jar of Cardassian sweets meant for the O’Brien children safely up in his pyjama top.

“Why not? I thought I could wear it when Miles took me to his cousin’s pub in Dublin. It’s cold there in February.”

“It’s hideous.”

“Well, you won’t be with us so you won’t have to see me in it.”

“Please let me destroy it.”

“I didn’t realise Elim was short for ‘eliminate all of Julian’s favourite clothes’.”

Elim rolled his eyes. It was a human gesture he must have picked up during his time on the station, and he seemed to find it very useful for when Julian made these kinds of jokes.

“Well, now you know, dear. Let me put it in the reclaimer. Or use it to insulate the seed pods. I can make you a new one.”

“I’m leaving tomorrow morning. Are you that fast?”

“You can postpone your trip.”

“Sorry, Elim. This jumper’s got sentimental value.” Julian supposed it was only fair to come clean. “Palis made it.”

Elim gave him the familiar offended look. After all these years, Julian still couldn’t decide if it was genuine or a deliberate excuse to provoke to an argument.

“So your plan was to wear this repulsive...thing made by your ex-fiancée all over your homeworld when your current fiancé, who designed and created fine clothing professionally for years, is entirely capable of making something perfectly charming for you?”

Wait, what? Julian had been trying nestle the snugly-wrapped jar into a boot for greater protection from jostling, but he stopped his efforts and gave Elim his full attention.

“Elim, are you proposing?”

“Yes, dear. I’m proposing to make you a far more flattering jumper for the trip. Maybe something in cream.” The way he’d draped the offensive knitwear over one arm and was regarding Julian’s upper body meant he was already planning the lines and fit of the new one.

“No, that’s not what I meant. Are you proposing marriage?” And wasn’t this the way he _would_ do it? Slyly, ambiguously, and when Julian least expected it? Julian could guess what was coming next. There was little Elim liked more than nudging Julian off his stride by making outrageous statements and then pretending to stand by them wholeheartedly.

“Why would I need to propose it? We’re already getting married.”

There it was. Julian grinned.

“Are we? This is the first I’ve heard of it. I’m glad you told me before the wedding,” he finished sardonically, before the growing look of concern on Elim’s face and the tilt of his head told him that maybe they weren’t playing a game.

“Julian. What do you mean?” Deadly serious.

Well. Fuck. Somehow he’d got himself engaged without knowing it. After intensive xeno-cultural sensitivity training at the academy, eight years on a Bajoran station, a year on Cardassia, and now a live-in Cardassian partner, Julian was more than used to dealing with cultural misunderstandings. He and Elim had small ones every day, and at the hospital they were frequent between the Federation and Cardassian staff. In both cases they were usually worked through and laughed off quickly, no harm done. But this was going to require more delicacy than usual. He sat on the bed next to where Elim was standing.

“Can I ask how long we’ve been engaged?”

“From the beginning, of course.”

“Since Tahna Los?” Julian was incredulous. He couldn’t have misunderstood Cardassian culture that badly, could he? Surely sleeping with a Cardassian once didn’t mean you were now engaged to said Cardassian.

Elim looked at him as if he were a particularly slow child. He sat down next to Julian on the bed.

“No, Julian. We weren’t bound then. You were sleeping with other people. I was sleeping with other people. We’ve been engaged, as you put it, for two months. Since we bound ourselves in exclusivity.”

“Hold on, you were sleeping with other people? You never told me that.”

“You never asked.”

“Who? Anyone I know?” Julian reconsidered. “Actually, never mind. That’s a conversation for another time.” Julian knew Elim well enough to know that it would take hours, if not days, if not weeks, to get to the bottom of this revelation. “What do you mean since we bound ourselves in exclusivity?”

“Two months ago we began a relationship. I hope I’m not mistaken in believing we agreed to be exclusive?”

“Yes, of course. You asked me if I wanted to try an exclusive relationship and I said yes. And I’ve been faithful, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Elim shook his head.

“Of course you have, dear. I’d know if you hadn’t.” He took Julian’s hands and looked into his eyes. “Julian. When I asked you, I didn’t say ‘try’. I was very serious then and I’m just as serious now. I am not trying to have a relationship with you. I am having a relationship with you.”

“Elim, I’m missing something here. We are in a relationship. We are faithful to each other. We love each other. We agree on those three points, I think.”

“Thank goodness.” This was said archly.

“But what’s wrong with saying we’re trying a relationship? Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

“No. It’s not what I’m doing. I’m having a relationship with you. If I had been at all unsure that I wanted you, I wouldn’t have asked.”

The gravity of what he’d agreed to two months ago began to dawn on Julian.

“Elim, are you saying that when you asked me to be in a relationship with you two months ago, you meant…a permanent relationship? An engagement? Starting then and there?”

“Yes, Julian. Didn’t you want the same thing?”

“Well, to be honest, no. I didn’t.”

Stupid, Julian. Cruel. 

It was rare for the imperturbable Elim Garak to look genuinely shocked, as opposed to pretend-shocked-in-order-to-rile-Julian-up. Julian realised he’d better clarify, quickly.

“Elim, listen. I didn’t mean it like that. I meant more that, well, I considered something permanent with you the best possible outcome, but I didn’t assume it was the only one. I mean, what if we aren’t compatible?”

“Julian, we are compatible. I made sure of that before I asked you.”

“But I wasn’t so sure. Elim, you’ve read Earth literature! You’re familiar with Earth culture. You know my history, with Palis and Leeta. And Ezri. You know that I’ve been in exclusive relationships that didn’t end in marriage. It’s the way humans do it. We usually need...a trial period before we commit. For life, I mean.”

“And you’ve read Cardassian literature, Julian. You’ve been here for a year. I would have thought our way would be clear to you by now.”

Julian sighed. He was growing to love this planet and its people, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to Cardassian arrogance about their ways being the best and most obvious.

“Well, it wasn’t clear to me this time. I didn’t realise I was agreeing to marriage.”

Elim’s face became expressionless, except for his eyes, which grew cold.

“And how is the _trial_ going for you, Julian? Do you find our life together satisfactory, or would you prefer to remain on Earth? Perhaps you’d like to trial a few other people, and let me know? If that’s what you would prefer please don’t let me stop you.”

“No! Of course not. Is that what you think? I came to Cardassia for you!”

“Then what do you want? If you still need time to decide, I’m not sure I can do that.”

“So you need a yes or no from me right now? The night before I leave the planet? That doesn’t seem fair. For me this is all out of the blue.”

“Julian. Do you want to marry me or not?” There was a steely sharp edge to Elim’s voice.

“Are you asking?”

“I suppose I am. Again.”

Julian clenched his teeth. He really wanted to lash into Elim for pushing him, and more than that for being such a damnarrogant Cardassian. But he knew that Elim’s world had been upended even more than his had by this misunderstanding. Here was a man who’d faced so much rejection and loss for one life - Tain, Mila, Ziyal, exile from and then destruction of his beloved planet. A sentimental man who had been emotionally stifled, taught from infancy that sentiment was a deadly, shameful weakness, and upon finally caving to that supposed weakness and allowing another person to peek through the opacity, now believed that, actually, that person did not feel, had never felt, the same way. And, by the way, was leaving for his home planet in less than a day. How could he expect that such a man’s reaction would be anything but defensive and flinty? He was probably terrified.

So Julian closed his eyes and sighed. Opening them again, he kept his tone to cool irony rather than anger.

“It’s nice that you actually asked, but that’s not how you’re supposed to do it.”

“Oh? And how am I _supposed_ to ask, Julian?” Up went the eye ridges.

“Elim, you know. You’ve read enough. We’ve talked about how humans do relationships. If we’re going to do this, we have to mix some of my traditions with yours.”

Was it possible Elim was unguarded enough in this moment that Julian was actually seeing the penny drop? The level of intensity in his eyes didn’t change, but Julian thought he could discern a glimpse of realisation. Still holding Julian’s hands, he brought them to his chest.

“Julian. Be with me always – take any form – drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you!”

Oh. But he hadn’t even _liked_  that book. He’d thoroughly trashed it as typical fantastical human nonsense that romanticised depravity, glorified romance, and offered no commentary whatsoever on society.

Julian’s next thoughts were more practical but no less confused. How could he possibly make such an important decision without proper time to think about it? The pros and cons had to be weighed. He had to have time to consider the future implications. And, as much as he didn’t want to torture him, if he insisted on some time to think, Elim would just have to respect that, wouldn’t he?

But.

Hadn’t he just asked Elim to ask him? How much more thinking was necessary? Hadn’t he, with Ezri’s help, already explored his feelings? Wasn’t Elim the reason he’d disrupted his old life to come to this destroyed planet? And now he was on his way to Starfleet Headquarters to request another year. He expected it to be granted, almost certainly, but he realised that he’d imagined leaving Starfleet and coming back as civilian relief on the tiny chance he’d be refused. Much as his work here on Cardassia was important, it wouldn’t be for the planet that he’d make that sacrifice. Being without Elim was something Julian did not want to think about.

They would have to work on communication, though.

“Okay.”

“Thank the ancestors.” Julian realised Elim had been gripping his hands with uncommon force the whole time when he finally freed them to clutch Julian to his chest.

“Wuthering Heights, Elim?” Julian’s voice was muffled due to his face being pressed into his fiancé’s shirt. “That’s a bit dramatic. You only had to say ‘will you marry me’.” Julian flexed his fingers, easing the cramps out, and gingerly hugged Elim back.

“Who knows with you, Julian. Human romance is so sensational. Was it satisfactory, at least?” Julian was glad to hear that the chiding, playful edge had returned Elim’s voice.

“You are a bit of a Heathcliff,” he murmured into the fabric.

“Don’t be insulting. He was a complete boor.”

“It was lovely,” Julian said, freeing himself enough to kiss Elim on the lips. “When’s the wedding?”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes what makes us different drives us apart, sometimes it draws us together, and sometimes it's amazing we ever connected in the first place.

They’d made love after that, Elim fucking him possessively, unwilling to release Julian from his embrace unless absolutely necessary to remove clothes or adjust bodies. Half of the packing would have to be redone, because the piles had been knocked to the floor. Afterwards, they lay on their sides, foreheads pressed together, in the Cardassian way. Elim recited a few verses in ancient Hebitian, a farewell to a lover about to leave on a voyage.

“Is that why we didn’t get together until I’d been on Cardassia for over three quarters of a year? Because you wanted to be sure?” Julian asked after a respectful silence had been observed to appreciate the poem. 

“The circumstances had changed. We needed to assess the situation to know if we were compatible for marriage.”

“You mean _you_ did. No one,” he pinched Elim reproachfully on the hip, where he knew it wouldn’t hurt _too_ much, “on this planet had the courtesy to explain Cardassian courtship to me. I had no idea. You were supportive when I got here, you spent loads of time with me, but you were distant. And you didn’t want to have sex. For nearly ten months! It was like I’d imagined our relationship on Deep Space Nine.”

“Would you call what we had on Deep Space Nine a relationship? We were friends who had sex when it suited us.”

“Well, yes, I would call that a kind of relationship.”

“Julian, whatever it was we had on Deep Space Nine was terribly shallow compared to what we have now. You must realise that, as much as I grew to enjoy your company, I started sleeping with you because it benefitted me to be close to someone on the senior staff.”

How very romantic. These glimmers of pure honesty came at the oddest times. Was this Elim attempting to improve communication?

“Mmmmm. I never expected you to admit that. But I knew. Actually, that was part of what excited me about you, at the start.”

“Your spy obsession.”

“I kind of wanted to be used by you. You were so mysterious and dangerous. You made me feel special. And extremely nervous.”

“You were easy to manipulate. That’s exactly how I wanted you to feel.”

“I know.”

Neither spoke for a while. Night had fallen while they’d been busy, and the glow of the Cardassia Prime equivalent of a harvest moon filtered through the window, along with the comforting squeaks, hums, and clicks of nocturnal creatures waking up in the garden. The room had cooled fractionally so that it was just about comfortable for Julian, but Elim drew the cover up from where it had been kicked and wrapped it around himself.

Julian thought about getting up to finish packing, given that he was due to board the _Antelope_ in less than twelve hours, but there was so much to be discussed. 

“I nearly didn’t come.”

“You seemed to enjoy yourself.”

“I mean to Cardassia,” he clarified, then realised Elim had understood him perfectly. “Oh, very good, Elim. That’s an ancient joke, you know.”

“Please, Julian. Standard is famously ambiguous. You should appreciate my efforts to master your language.”

“Yes, admirable. Puns are the height of linguistic sophistication. But I’m serious. I nearly didn’t come to Cardassia. I was about to cancel my plans and ask for my post on Deep Space Nine back. I wanted to be with you, and I thought I was being selfish. I thought I would be…intruding. It was only because Ezri convinced me you wouldn’t resent my help that I came at all.”

“Julian, in my letters I asked you many times to come to Cardassia because I thought we had potential for something deeper.”

“Did you? You’re going to have to show me where, because I didn’t get any of that from what you wrote. As far as I’m concerned, I took a huge risk coming here. I didn’t know if you really wanted me to come. Or to stay.” 

“It was all there. The twinned central themes of every letter were emptiness and potential.”

“Twinned central themes?”

“Yes, Julian. The most basic of the twenty-three structures of letter-writing, as every Cardassian child learns in their first year of school. I tried to keep it as simple as possible”

“I think there’s more to the art of Cardassian letter-writing than I realised. You’ll have to tell me more about it sometime.”

“Hmmmm. We’ll add it to the list.”

“But even if I had picked up on them! Emptiness and potential? Those themes could have applied to…anything. Lots of things. To your work restoring Cardassia. How was I supposed to know you meant me?”

“Why would I write to you about them if they didn’t apply to you?”

“Because I was your friend and you were telling me about your life?”

“Julian. Had I ever expressed myself to you in that particular manner before?”

Julian thought back to the first letter he’d received, after Elim had been on Cardassia for nearly half a year. He’d written of sadness, great loss, and yes, an emptiness that Julian had assumed referred to the culture, the planet, the billions dead. And yes, constantly entwined throughout had been the thinnest threads of optimism about, or, one could say, potential of, the future. Such emotional openness _had_ seemed very uncharacteristic of Elim. Julian had been shocked at the metamorphosis. It was nothing like their usual back and forth about literature, politics, sex, food, and so on. But he’d attributed it to the different medium - letters didn’t allow so well for witty repartee or spirited debate - as well as the fact that the war, the desolation of Cardassia, and the return home to a traumatised planet after years of exile, might just have changed Elim. And more letters had come, and the tone had stayed the same, and he’d just got used to it.

“No. You hadn’t. So you were writing love letters?”

Elim caressed his cheek.

“Not exactly, dear heart, but if you prefer to regard them as love letters, that’s close enough.”

“Didn’t you even consider that I wouldn’t understand?”

“Julian, it did work in the end. You’re here, aren’t you? And how else could I have put it? ‘I miss you and think we could build a life together, even though I have nothing to offer you. Please come live with me.’”

“That’s exactly how you could have put it.”

“How indecently explicit.”

Julian lifted his head up on one arm so he could look at Elim properly. 

“Are you sure you want me, Elim? You could still find some nice Cardassian to settle down with. Then these misunderstandings wouldn’t happen.”

Elim pretended to consider the possibility.

“That would make my life easier. And I wouldn’t have to accompany you to London in the coldest month of the year.”

“You’ll love it,” teased Julian. “You know, there’s a replica of Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre in London. They do authentic Sixteenth Century outdoor performances of his plays. Maybe we can still get tickets."

“Fantastic, Julian.” This was punctuated with another eye roll. “I can’t believe you’ve found an activity that combines my abiding passions of Shakespeare and foul weather.”

“I know you so well.”

“I don’t understand why your parents had to bring you up exclusively in unpleasantly cold places.”

Julian shrugged.

“My father doesn’t like the heat. Anyway, London’s not that cold. We spent a year and a half in northern Manitoba when I was a teenager. You’re lucky I’m not taking you there. This time.”

 “Oh?”

 “The bears are white because there can be seven or eight months of snow every year.”

 “Dear, if you love me you’ll never take me there.”

“I don’t know. It might be a nice honeymoon destination. Just you, me, and the bears. Too cold to go outside. Maybe too cold to leave the bed...”

“You might be right, Julian. Perhaps I need a nice Cardassian who won’t make me go places where water freezes.” Elim shuddered and pulled the cover tighter around himself. “What’s the name of that new doctor on your staff? He’s quite attractive.”

“Doctor Orniss? Yes, I think he’s single. He’d be great for you. He’s re-reading _Aon’s Renunciation_ , did you know that? He does every year. You and he could sit around agreeing about Cardassian literature all night, and turning on the heat when the temperature drops below thirty-five.”

“That sounds very diverting, dear. It would be extremely gratifying to have a quiet home life. But I suspect I’m on the verge of a breakthrough with you regarding your appreciation of Cardassian literature, and I would hate to abandon such a worthy endeavour.”

“Do you think so?”

“You’re very clever, you know. It should be any day now.”

“Thank you. That’s optimistic of you. But if that’s your only reason for rejecting Orniss, I think I should tell you that I don’t believe you’ll ever convince me about _The Neverending Sacrifice._ ”

“I do enjoy the challenge. Among other challenges you present.”

“Challenges, me? Like what?”

“Mmmmmm. So many to choose from. The way your body releases moisture even at the lowest of temperatures is terrible for the sheets.” He wiped a drop from Julian’s brow. “But the smell is intoxicating.”

“You’re saying you like the way I sweat?”

“I suppose I am.” Elim leaned forward to sniff Julian’s armpit. “It’s a pity your culture demands you conceal this odour. It’s quite…delicious.”

“Humans find it quite disgusting.”

“Well, it’s absolutely enchanting to Cardassians.”

“I think it’s just you who finds it so enchanting, Elim.”

“Who’s to say? It’s rare to find one of my people cohabiting with one of yours. Sadly for them.”

“Hmmmm. I’m fairly certain I’ve ruined you for other Cardassians. I guess that’s another reason to keep me.”

“I’m an incorrigible deviant, it’s true.”

“I suppose two good reasons are enough.”

A light breeze ruffled the curtain, a blessed relief to Julian. Elim shivered. 

“Julian. This temperature is intolerable. Either get up and close the window or come here and warm me.”

“Three reasons,” said Julian, allowing Elim’s arm to pull him to his scaly chest, into a type of embrace that was decidedly not done after sex by nice Cardassians. “I like the way you deviate for me.”

“Mmmmm,” Elim buried his nose in Julian’s hair.

“Are you really going to make me that cream jumper?”

“If you like.” Elim ran his fingers idly through the dark curls, plotting the project in his head. “If I start tomorrow I should be able to finish by the time I join you on Earth. That gives you a week to wear that other monstrosity.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Maybe you’ll spill something on it.”

**Author's Note:**

> I tried not to make this too syrupy and keep them in character. Comments and constructive criticism on this is more than welcome.


End file.
